Take Me Back
by RedLion2
Summary: On the eve of Christmas, a depressed Quatre contemplates where his own love life has gone wrong. Companion oneshot to 'Tis the Season.


Bandai holds the rights to _Gundam Wing_ and all other Gundam shows. I just borrow the characters because it's fun.

This is a one-shot companion piece to my story '_Tis the Season_, and shows a rather melancholy, depressed Quatre.

_Take Me Back_

"Welcome home, Master Quatre." The handsome blonde CEO of Winner Enterprises nodded at his butler, but there was little enthusiasm in the movement. He was home, yes, but for his staff, completely alone. And it had been his decision. There was plenty of interest in him, after all. He was twenty-four, handsome, wealthy, intelligent, sweet...The list could go on, he supposed, but it did nothing to impress him. The woman he wanted wanted nothing to do with him.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Quatre walked into his study and went to his small bar, grabbing the decanter of Southern Comfort and pouring himself a stylishly liberal amount. He paced before the big window for a moment, noting the snow falling from an artificial sky. With a sigh, he finally sat down in his leather recliner and drank.

He knew his drinking was becoming more of a habit and he also knew he should stop. But there was no one to lure him away from the decanter as he poured more of the fine, golden whiskey. And wouldn't it make for a delightful front page story? Quatre could imagine the headlines: "Winner CEO Drinks Himself to Death!" or "Quatre Raberba Winner Dead from Alcoholic Depression!" Either would work, he supposed.

Oh, he knew his friends, what few he had, would mourn him. But they were almost all married, and content in their happy lives. If he hadn't believed that earlier, he did now, having spent time with them at the Yuy's. And he certainly didn't begrudge them what they had. No, he was not that embittered, not yet, anyway. That he would be one day was certain. He had no way to safeguard against it.

Quatre sighed as he drank the whiskey, smiling as the amber liquid burned his body. Ah, warmth. He would take it any way he could get it. And he knew that he had only to open his bed and he'd never be cold again, but there was something totally unsatisfactory with that answer to his dilemma. If _she_ didn't want him, then he would have no other. He paced, aimlessly, restlessly, recklessly. What did it matter that this was Christmas Eve? That he was alone as old Scrooge had been? Of course, Scrooge had had company that night. Quatre knew darned well _he_ wouldn't.

Perhaps if he would've played it cooler she wouldn't have fled. But he had pushed, insistent that she leave behind her old life for a new one with him. She loved him – or so she had said. Quatre had to chuckle. Love. What exactly was it? And why, as powerful and rich as he was, couldn't he attain it? He knew, however, that love had nothing to do with either of those things. It couldn't be that easy.

His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the ID, hope rising within him like a tsunami. It was only Trowa, his best friend, brother, and confidante. Probably calling to tell him everything would work out for the best. His hope fell, crashing throughout his system, dragging him down into the depths of another pool of depression. Back to the decanter.

He hid his problem well, for he was not a mean drunk. And he was not yet drunk, anyway. No, Quatre had learned to hold his liquor so that no one would know what Winner Enterprises' CEO did for fun and recreation. It was pathetic, really, but what could he do? Alcohol served its purposes: to make him warm, and to ease the pain. Pain that she had caused. Pain that he had made.

Quatre fell asleep at some point, the whiskey taking away the edge that now constantly drove him. His dreams were deep and tortured, and when at last shook him awake, he knew he could not go on like this. When there was no longer peace in slumber, what then? Somewhere, far-off, perhaps, a door opened. Quatre looked closely at his watch. Three AM. So much for a long sleep: he'd been out for only an hour.

A knock echoed at this study door and he turned, warily, wondering if perhaps one of the staff was concerned about him. They did their best, really, to ensure his happiness. When the knock was more insistent, he crossed the great room and yanked open the door, prepared fully to lay into the person disturbing his depression.

But the lithe, beautiful woman awaiting him on the other side stilled his vengeful tongue. Her sorrel hair fell heavily to her shoulders, and her blue-gray eyes were warm and apologetic. She was shivering. Quatre blinked several times, waiting for the alcohol-induced image to disappear. It didn't.

"Hello, Quatre." Her voice was soft and smooth and chased away the ringing in his ears that had started at the sight of her. "May I come in?"

Her pleading tone broke his silence. "You're already in my house. Why not the study, too?" He turned away, striding away from her, angry, hurt, angry, so angry he wanted to hit her. But Quatre Winner was a gentleman. There would be no physical violence. Verbal – well, he couldn't promise that.

"I'm sorry for coming so late. My shuttle just got in," she offered, hoping he wouldn't turn her away. She had no where else to go. "Quatre, please. Talk to me."

"Talk to you? About what, Catherine? I assumed that when you left there was nothing else to say!" he snarled, spinning, confronting her with white-hot aqua eyes.

Catherine Bloom, adoptive older sister to Trowa, and circus performer extraordinaire, backed away from him, becoming concerned. Not for her safety; no, she trusted Quatre with her life. Rather, she was concerned about the stench of alcohol on his breath. "How much have you drank?" she asked, her voice louder, her eyes narrowed.

"None of your business." He turned away. "See yourself out." His body was trembling. He was angry, yes. But he was excited too, for she had finally come to see him. And still, he could not let her think he was happy to see her. They hadn't parted on good terms.

"So that's it then? You don't want to know why I came back?" Catherine asked, walking toward him. She hadn't come this far to leave again with no resolution. Far. Ha. She'd come from London! Just to fly to L-4, just to try and make things work.

"No, I don't. We aren't meant for one another, Catherine. We never were." The words shattered him even as he spoke them. Of course he wanted to hear her reason. He wanted her to stay, to agree to marry him. A hand touched his arm and he shrugged it off, giving her cold indifference. That way, when she ran again, it wouldn't hurt as bad.

"Quatre, I love you. That's never been a question—"

He whirled on her, eyes flashing danger signs. "Never a question, Cat? Are you crazy? You say you love me and then run!" Quatre took a deep breath, running his hands through his platinum locks in agitation. Did she honestly expect him to believe her nonsense about love? And yet, there was a part of him desperate to believe her.

Catherine had the decency to look utterly ashamed of herself. He was right – she had declared her love, and then run back to the safety and comfort of her beloved circus family. She had known it was wrong, and she had feared it ruined any chance of happiness with him. But when Trowa and Middie had come to see her, and told her that her love was completely miserable, and drowning his torn feelings in whiskey, Catherine knew she had to come see him. She hadn't expected it to be this hard.

"Quatre, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to leave. I guess I was scared—"

"Of what, Cat? Me?" Quatre snorted and went to the bar, grabbing the decanter. As he was about to pour more alcohol, Catherine grabbed his arm, stopping him. His aqua eyes furious, he glared at her. "Let go," he ordered and she shook her head, unafraid of him.

"No, handsome. You've got to stop this," she told him, her blue-gray eyes wide and pleading. "I care about you. I want to be with you." She was sincere, and she wanted him to realize that, no matter how much she had to press the issue. When he remained unresponsive, his eyes still cold, she whispered, "Please, Quatre, give me another chance. You're miserable, and so am I. We can make this work, honey."

He rolled his eyes and walked away. Why was she taunting him like this? That he wanted to believe her was a no-brainer. He loved her. It was that simple, and not that simple. But how could he trust her again? "Cat, I love you. I probably shouldn't, after what happened, but I do. And I want us together, married. Are you ready for that? Are you ready to leave the circus life?" He knew that was the hardest question she would have to answer, because the circus was the only life she had ever known.

Catherine took a deep breath and nodded. "I've thought about all of that, sweetie, and I'm ready to quit and be with you. I want to be married, too, Quat, and spend the rest of my life with you." Her voice trembled with emotion, and he wanted badly to take her in his arms, to feel her supple softness, but there was lingering doubt and anger. "Quat? You have to trust me," she added softly, and he knew that was true, because without trust, there could be no relationship. And yet, he found it hard to take that first step.

"I _have_ trusted you before, Cat, and look where it got me." He knew the cold words struck her heart hard- he could tell from the look on her face. And if he felt like it, he could use his empath skills and know exactly how she was feeling. But he'd learned to control his ability, and now kept it so tightly leashed that he sometimes forgot he had it.

He sighed. After all, wasn't this what he wanted? Didn't he want Catherine back in his life? She wanted him, and while that made him feel warm, would it last? She could see his struggle, because it was all in his face, a face that showed too much strain for one so young. Going to him, again, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. That he stayed within the confines of her embrace strengthened her resolve to stay and persuade him to take her back.

For his part, Quatre forced himself to relax. Her body was soft and warm and he wanted, achingly, to hold her. He closed his aqua eyes and swallowed hard, allowing himself to reach out and touch her feelings. The gripping intensity of her emotions startled him and he gasped, causing Catherine to gaze up at him in concern. "Quat? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He recovered and slowly slid his arms around her, seeing the sparkle in her eyes. "Cat, if we're going to do this, it has to be all the way. I won't let you run away again," he told her, his voice solemn. "I love you, and I want you, but you've got to commit."

"I do, Quatre. If, if you reach out, and feel how I'm feeling, you'll know I do," she told him earnestly, her eyes alive with hope. He let a slow, small smile slide across his lips and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"I already did," he whispered, and let the last of his doubts burn out as he lowered his mouth to hers, taking care to move slowly, languorously. Catherine sighed against him and pressed herself closer to his body, wanting, needing, desperately almost, to feel him. Quatre growled low in his throat as he backed her against the bar, his mouth more forceful, his hands tightening behind her back. Catherine gave in to him, her head reeling and body shaking.

Quatre, finally realizing he was about to take her right there in his study, backed off, quickly. "I'm sorry, Cat. It's been so long, I just—"

"It's okay, honey. I know how you feel," she said, feeling cold away from him. She felt a little out of sorts from his powerful kiss, and leaned back, the bar providing support as she tried to collect herself.

He watched her, the way her hair shimmered in the light, the way her pulse danced in her throat, and knew he wanted her always at his side. A faint smile on his face, he crossed the room to his desk and reached into a small drawer, withdrawing a box. He took a deep breath and walked back over to her, his heart pounding.

"Cat?"

"Hmmm?" She looked up only to have to look down, and her heart stuttered, falling off pace, then accelerating and battering her rib cage. "Quat..."

"Catherine, I love you, and I know this really sudden, but I need you, and I want to know that you're completely mine." The blonde gazed steadily up at his girl and opened the box, revealing an exquisite diamond ring. "Will you marry me, Cat?" he asked softly, though his voice seemed to echo forever in the large room.

She swallowed hard, trying to force away the lump in her throat. With tears streaking down her cheeks, she whispered, "Yes, I will. I love you." Quatre grinned and stood from his kneeling position to place the ring on her finger. She threw herself against him, crying, and he held her tightly, his face buried in her lustrous sorrel mane.

Neither knew how long they stayed that way, and neither cared, either. The night couldn't be any more perfect, though it had certainly started roughly. Quatre knew his life would be richer now, more meaningful, because he had his girl to share it with. And Catherine realized she was truly at home, and at peace. She had always fretted over Trowa, but once he'd married, that job went to Middie, and left her totally on her own. Well, no more.

They began making plans the next morning for a Valentines wedding, and called all of their friends to share the wonderful news. Trowa was surprised by the wedding announcement as much as the others, and he was happy to have had a hand in their getting back together. He loved Cat and was protective of her, and knew Quatre would take excellent care of her.

And so, by New Year's Eve, the end of the holiday season, each ex-Gundam pilot had found someone special to share their lives with, a woman who meant the world to them, a woman they would love, protect, and honor. For five young men who had started out as fierce warriors, it was a good and pleasant ending.

**GUNDAM WING**

A/N: I know that Quatre was never actually set up with a girl in the anime or manga, and I also know that many writers pair him with Dorothy as canon, but I just couldn't do that to him. I base my own canon pairing on the fact that because Quatre and Trowa are such good friends, perhaps the tightest of any of the pilots, Quat would know Catherine pretty well. And if you don't agree, you don't have to. It's my story to tell. RL2


End file.
